


Styx

by kurokun



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 23:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11046768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokun/pseuds/kurokun
Summary: A college student and an urban legend cross paths in the darkest corners of the safest country in the world.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my friends.
> 
> This fic is something that I've been working on for nothing but my own personal enjoyment for a long time. I never really intended to post or share it with anyone, outside of my fabulous, beautiful friend Patd06, but in light of my recent struggles with my other long term work I thought maybe I owed it to you guys to show you a little bit more of my mind.
> 
> Many of you have witnessed, experienced, and suffered through the intense writer's block that I've been struggling with in False Awakening. And although I am trying to make as much progress as I can, I can't make any promises as to the timeline for it's completion. I assure you I will be working on it full time until it's done, but hopefully you guys will be able to enjoy this story a little bit in the meantime.
> 
> I do have to warn you, though; because this was never something I planned to publish, it's format is not nearly as consistent as other things I've written. For example, I usually try to keep my chapters at least a similar length/word count, but with this one, I just kind of stopped each part where it felt right. I'm sorry about that, but it can be enjoyed all the same. And please don't hesitate to tell me where I can do better! I would love to hear your feedback and criticisms in the comments section.
> 
> That said, I would like to present to all of you Styx, or the contradiction of beautiful, honorable things being found in dark, terrible places.
> 
> Much love to you all,  
> kurokun

_Traveling somewhere, could be anywhere…_

As an old Motorcycle song blasted through his headphones, he pulled his wrist up and checked the smartwatch monitoring his run, seeing that it was already approaching eleven o'clock and he was only in his third mile. He glanced absently at a decaying, western style home turned apartment and was glad that his lungs begged for air from his mouth, the overflowing trashcans full of cheap liquor bottles and swathed in flies. He still didn't know why he came to Nishinari-ku, formerly known as Kamagasaki, to run, especially at night when he could simply stay in his own upper echelon of Tennouji. But nevertheless he found himself drifting through sleeping figures on the cracked ground and half-hidden exchanges in the shadows around him. Night after night he jogged through the single worst slum in the prefecture, arguably in all of the country. It had started out as unintentional; he used to run only in his own neighborhood, the large, well-kept homes and apartment buildings a reminder of his place. But he had quickly grown bored with taking the same route over and over, so he soon started to stray south.

At first he had only ran along the border of Kamagasaki, but slowly he crept inward until eventually he would beeline to the ward from his own cushy metropolitan abode through the worst parts of the dangerous city and back again. However, after months of this routine he had still never had an issue with any of the permanent residents. He would often receive odd looks or the occasional suspicious glare, but not once had he been the victim of a crime. Some people had even grown used to seeing him, a handful of older vagrants giving him slight nods when he would pass.

Tonight so far had been no different, making his way through the broken jungle slowly. After another few minutes he found  himself in the middle of Sankaku Park, the dusty and barren land reminiscent of a desert. Sitting on the curb, he caught his breath slowly,

stretching out his legs to relieve them of the acid building up in the muscle. Tilting his head back, he looked up at the blackened sky, a yellowish haze covering the stars. It was almost like the heavens themselves knew that the land they drifted over was forsaken. He closed his eyes slowly, letting the music in his ears overtake his other senses. It was peaceful.

He felt him before he saw him.

The man's presence became stifling in a matter of seconds. His eyes snapped open but by that time it was too late. He felt something hard press against his head before a hand wrapped around him and grabbed the front of his shirt, slamming him backward and onto the ground. He saw the dark outline of a large man hovering over him, crouched with the barrel of a black handgun pressed to his forehead. His other hand reached out and snatched his earbuds out, the silence that ensued being permeated by his wild heartbeat. The man cocked his head quietly and the light of a broken street lamp flickered, illuminating his face for a moment. The majority of it was hidden behind a bandanna, but under the shade of the cap covering his head he saw that his eyes were bright, crystalline blue like he had never imagined before. Unable to turn away, he remained peering into those eyes until the light flashed off again and he was nothing more than a shadow.

"Stand," he commanded in a deep, rumbling baritone as he rose himself, taking care to keep the gun trained on his head. He complied to the man's command wordlessly, rising to his feet and turning to face him.

"Wallet," he growled lowly, making the other blanch and tingle at the same time.

"I don't have it on me," he responded quietly, impressed when his voice came out evenly. The tall man cocked his head again, then took a few slow steps closer.

"Arms up."

He complied and lifted his arms out, confusion barreling into a mix of fear and curiosity when the gunman started to run his hand down his hips and legs, searching for what he assumed was money. When he finally stepped back, apparently deciding that he had told the truth, he held out his hand and spoke again.

"The phone."

He quickly reached into his armband and took out his phone, removing the headphones and draping them around his neck before setting the phone in the assailant's hand. He was pulling back when the felt the hand latch onto his forearm, holding him in place with bruising force. The man inspected his wrist before releasing.

"The watch, too."

He removed the smartwatch, feeling his breathing start again and placed it in the man's palm before watching him shove the items in his pocket. He stared at him for another few seconds, the air thick with tension.

"What happened to you tonight?"

The boy stood and looked at the blue eyed man with a bewildered expression. Finally he understood, feeling his heart miss a beat with his reply.

"I tripped and fell on the street, and my stuff broke. They weren't salvageable, so I threw them out. That's right, isn't it?"

The other was quiet, making no move to reply until he turned and started to fade back into the shadows. Just as he started to lose sight of his silhouette, he heard his voice ring out quieter than before.

"What's yer name?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo," he replied, almost like he was in a trance. The other turned his head so he could see one shining eye over his broad shoulder.

"Don't come back here, Kurosaki Ichigo. Might not be me rolling ya next time."

With that he was gone.

When he arrived home, Ichigo trudged into the spacious bedroom of his apartment and into the bathroom, starting up the large walk-in shower before stripping. He stood under the warm water, letting it rinse away his sweat and tension in his shoulders. He took special care to wash his hair well, trying to remove the grime of the street he had been forced to lay on. He sighed, leaning against the wall.

Of course the minute he had thought about his lack of incident in Nishinari he had been mugged. It was his own fault for being so blithely unaware of his surroundings, but it was still irritating. Although it could have been much worse. Thinking back to the encounter, he considered how easy it would have been for the blue eyed man to kill him. He wouldn't have gotten anything out of it, but then again the real payoff for a criminal was the thrill, wasn't it?

Shaking his head, he turned off the water and dried himself, pulling on a pair of comfortable briefs and lounge pants. He retreated to his bed and lied down, staring out the window silently and thinking about his luck.

* * *

He stared at the phone in his hand and the matching watch, looking at the technology absentmindedly. Clicking the home button, a PIN lock appeared on the screen. Frowning at it, he turned his attention to the watch, and saw that all it required was a slide across the screen to open. He did it and pulled up the list of contacts shared from the phone, typing two letters into the search bar. 

Opening the desired contact, he committed the address there to memory. It was in a very nice section of Tennouji, a place where only the privileged stay. He felt himself frown at the thought.

_ The hell was he doing here? _

He sighed, placing the devices to the side and turning to the busted window on his left. Looking out it into the darkness, he felt a tingling of something uncomfortable that he didn't recognize. It was a slight stirring in his stomach that leached up into his throat. He didn't like it. That kid wasn't stupid; he knew what kind of place Nishinari was. If he didn't want his shit taken he should have stayed on his side of town. In fact, he could have gotten quite a lot worse than simply having his phone stolen.

And typically he would have. Although he usually wasn't brutal to the point of being excessive unless the person resisted, it was rare for him to leave someone totally unscathed unless they were female. He wasn't fond of preying on women, as old fashioned as that sounded. So why had he let the orange headed kid off so easy? He huffed as he thought about him. He was a decent height, though still a little shorter than himself, standing just under six foot, and he was obviously in good shape, body lean and well toned even under his sleeved shirt. 

But that wasn't particularly uncommon; his indifference to being mugged, however, was. He stood still and tense before him, but his tone and expression were even, his deep brown eyes tranquil. His ability to respond to the usual, but odd question regarding his belongings was different too. After only a few moments pondering he had a simple yet believable alibi for the loss of his things. He was so incredibly calm that it almost felt wrong to shake him down, like he deserved a certain level of respect for not being overcome by fear like the standard yuppie from the other side would be. 

Perhaps that was what the discomfort in his core was. 

Sighing, he stripped down to his boxers and laid on his mattress, listening to the soft, lurking noises emanating from the old building. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Kurosaki?"

Ichigo's head snapped forward, noticing that the majority of eyes in the lecture hall were trained on him. He sighed and cleared his throat.

"Sensei?"

"Mind repeating to me what I was just reviewing? Unless you were to preoccupied to-"

"You were explaining the method of elenchus developed by Socrates in the 5th century BC based on the writings of his student Plato and how he and his own students used it to devise many of the common Western political philosophies that exist still in the modern day. Before that you detailed a series of questions he used to determine his own beliefs and the beliefs of the Ancient Grecian society as a whole."

The professor gave him a noteworthy glare, the bitterness on his face apparent. He grudgingly returned to his lecture as Ichigo did to the window, sighing deeply. He would admit freely that he was totally uninterested in class and was paying no attention to the lecture, but he had always had a convenient ability to store spoken information in his mind even if he wasn't truly focused on it, almost like osmosis. His mind pondered the odd meeting with the blue eyed man from a week ago instead of the philosophy of western political theory. 

_ Meeting?  _

He almost laughed at himself at the thought. Their encounter wasn't just a simple meeting, it was a crime. But for whatever reason, he had a hard time thinking about it in that context. Perhaps because it wasn't violent, or maybe because the items stolen were so trivial, he didn't really think of that night negatively. In fact, if he had to choose a word to describe it, it would probably be  _ interesting. _

Ichigo had always been someone who craved the more adventurous things in life. He liked the feeling of his heart racing and his senses being sharp from adrenaline. But that feeling didn't always come in the most pleasant of forms. When he was little, the urge was typically sated by fighting. Anyone who so much as looked at him - or more specifically, his hair - the wrong way, would immediately be under attack. As he got older and stronger however, this caused some serious repercussions, the last and most serious of which was a broken jaw of some asshole that called him a faggot. After that and a very close call with jail time he had to find a different outlet, which was running. On normal days he'd go maybe seven miles; the more stressful ones he would be gone for hours and only returned home after roaming the whole city. He had sparred with friends a handful of times when that wasn't enough, but for the most part his violent tendencies had ceased. 

But the desire to feel the way he did when he fought didn't. He tried to push it away at first, but it wasn't easily shaken. That's when he discovered a certain type of relationship, starting with the one he had at the end of high school. His partner at the time one day revealed to him that he had a bit of an unusual taste in bed, and said he should research it. So he did, and after wading through a very large amount of smut he found a handful of candid articles about the BDSM relationship dynamic. He was incredibly hesitant at first, but as he read he considered the possibility of using it as a release. 

So he tried it.

It had been liberating. After a bit of experimentation, he discovered that he was incredibly excited by the fight. His partner would attack him and they would grapple until he finally acquiesced and then was bound and punished rather aggressively. It had always been controlled; there were safe words in place and Ichigo was never pushed with more pain than he could handle and still enjoy, but it had given him that feeling. The wave of mind-altering of adrenaline, the frantic thrashing increasing his heart rate as he tried to escape, and finally the blurry feeling as he was ultimately brought to climax before descending from his high. He'd had two relationships with this dynamic, the last ending just under a year ago, and since then he was almost ashamed to admit how much he missed it. He hadn't thought about it in a long time.

_ So why am I thinking about it now? _

He heard the professor dismiss the class in the background and gathered his things, making his way outside and to his car. His Infiniti growled to life and he made his way home slowly, watching the foreign-feeling world out the windshield. He arrived at his building and parked his car in the underground garage before making his way upstairs and changing into his running clothes and returning outside.

Standing outside his apartment, Ichigo stretched an arm across his chest as he thought. In the week since his mugging, and he had stayed close to home on his nightly runs but was quickly growing bored again. He knew it was foolish to feel fondness for a place like Nishinari, but nevertheless he found himself missing the familiar route. Though the place was worn and decayed, he somehow found it charming. Perhaps it was the culture of people, or the way it made him more aware, or maybe it was just that it was different. It was a dark place, but it was separate from the status quo, almost like a world of its own. It was imperfect, and its flaws were like a good drug. 

Starting out a slow pace, he let his steps carry him south. After what felt like a short time he started to notice the barrier of the cities as they bled into one another until finally he was surrounded with Kamagasaki's ever-present haze. He wound his way through the familiar buildings until he felt a presence lurking around to his right. He didn't stop however, instead he sped up a bit and crossed the main road, making his way back towards Tennouji. He was a few minutes down the road when it happened again; that slight itching feeling as he grew closer to one of the side alleys. He increased his pace, rushing past the entrance quickly without incident.

_ God I'm paranoid. _

He decreased his speed again and jogged leisurely down the open central road until he could see the train tracks that separated the dark from the light. Just as he reached the closest rail, something shifted from behind the red and white traffic arm that kept cars at bay when a locomotive was crossing. Ichigo stopped dead in his tracks, focusing on the spot for movement with tense muscles, heart racing pitifully. He stood still for close to a minute, watching, waiting.

But nothing happened. 

Finally, he started to calm and resumed his jog, eyes roaming around the barren wasteland of space as his feet crossed into his cushy, familiar world again. 

He didn't notice anything following him, slate gray American import, eyes made of moonlight, or otherwise.


	3. Chapter 3

" _Fuck_ is this?"

"Hell you think you're talking to like that ya fuckin' carrot?"

"Who the fuck are you calling at 4AM, Renji?"

Ichigo hissed as he was blinded by his phone screen, checking for a more accurate time as he rolled over in his sheets. "4:13 in the morning, to be exact."

"I just got outta the shop and figured since it was Friday I'd shout at yer lame ass and see if you wannata come over to my jawn and chill tonight, but fuck yer prep ass too," he streamed out sarcastically.

"Fuck, man, why are ya thinking about partyin' and not sleepin'?"

"Bitch I got a life unlike yer basic ass, ain't my fault I wanna get up on my weekend."

Ichigo felt his sleepy eyes roll, but couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth quirk up. He and Abarai Renji were undoubtedly from different sides of the coin, but ultimately made of the same alloy. The two had met as children in a martial arts class, squaring off immediately and Ichigo receiving and unpleasant ass kicking. But even through his humiliation at being beaten by the redhead, he felt something else too: admiration. The two became companions, sparring with each other and growing into teenagers together.

They shared a lot of personality traits: stubbornness, aloofness, a hair trigger temper, and more importantly a sense of fierce loyalty to those considered friends. But everything about their situations were polar opposites. Ichigo was a child of the classic, nuclear family that lived in a pleasant, wealthy neighborhood where people sometimes forgot to lock their doors. Renji, on the other hand, was abandoned at seven and put into the care of his biological mother's worthless druggie sister and grew up in a world where gunshots served as a lullaby. But despite their environmental differences they stayed close and although they grew into the stereotypical expectations of people in their respective worlds they still thought themselves cut of the same cloth. Thus, every week Ichigo would get an invitation to the other side of the tracks where he would indulge in some of his friend's lifestyle.

"Where and when," he finally sighed, lips finally spread into a full-fledged grin.

"No, no, don' even trip. I'm sure you gotta get down with yer bougie uni friends, doin' some of that classy shit. Ain't even a thing-"

"Oh shut it, Ren. Playing hard to get has never been yer thing. What are we getting into?" He heard his friend suck his teeth on the other line, imagining the smug sideways grin that matched it in his mind.

"Well I guess if you gotta free minute ya can come out and meet the squad around nine. You ain't ever met all 'um and it's about time."

"Sounds good. Meet you at your place then."

Ichigo ended the call then left his bed, figuring sleep would elude him now that he had tonight on his mind. He pulled on a pair of basketball shorts and a wife beater before grabbing his gym bag and leaving his apartment. He used the elevator to reach the eighth floor where the fitness room was, unlocking it with a smile when he saw it was empty. He dropped his bag on the floor and proceeded to grab his wraps, winding them around his ankles for support then his fists. He stretched out then faced the large black punching bag and bounced on the balls of his feet, striking from the right.

He moved mindlessly in front of it, bouncing back and forth as he punished the fake leather exterior. His mind wandered as he worked, thinking about his plans for the rest of the day before it was covered in the haze of night and bright blue eyes appeared in his mind. It had been like this for days, thoughts of the criminal creeping into the forefront of his brain. They barreled into him like a freight train, bowling his control over and taking root behind his eyes. He saw the eyes watching him silently, head cocked to the side. The figure then approached, hand sliding his gun into the waistband of his jeans before reaching out for Ichigo's hip.

_That's not what happened._

He leaned in closer until their lips brushed, the taller man whispering something down on him that he couldn't hear in the unwanted fantasy.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

A large hand slid under his shirt, sliding across his skin slick from the run, and he saw his own hand reach up and run through the front of the man's soft hair as he slid off the cap that covered it. His subconscious decided that it should be black, and it was like slipping into a pool of thick, silky ink.  

"Stop!"

He didn't realize he had yelled aloud until he heard the echo call back to him from the high ceiling. He looked around, sighing in relief when he found himself still alone, then gave the bag one last half-hearted punch before grabbing his things and heading out of the gym. Back in his apartment, he glanced at the clock on the wall and saw he had been in his dream-like stupor for almost an hour and half. Showering and grabbing his things, he headed out for class.

The lectures passed by quickly, his mind elsewhere the majority of the day. When he finally arrived back at his apartment, he parked his Infiniti Q80 Inspiration in the underground garage, placing a doting hand on the hood as he passed by. He loved his car. It had been a present from his father, and he wasn't ashamed to admit he had almost cried when he saw the beauty in the driveway. As a model that had only been previewed in Paris in 2014, he still had no idea how his father had gotten one.

Heading upstairs, he finished up some classwork for the night before hopping in the shower and then trying to tame his hair. By the time he emerged from the bathroom it was already 8:30PM. He headed to his closet and pulled out a pair of deep gray jeans, a wine colored v-neck, and his black peacoat. Trying on the garments before inspecting himself in the mirror, he decided it was suitable before sliding on a pair of classic high top Chuck Taylors. He packed his wallet into his pocket, then grabbed his keys and headed down to the car port.

He smiled as his baby growled to life before turning up the custom stereo, Low Life by Future and The Weeknd beating its way across the leather seats. Screeching his way out to the street, he set his path for the familiar slums to the south. As he got closer and closer to the border, the looks of people on the streets changed from appreciation, to surprise, and finally to wariness. He ignored the suspicious glances and made his way down a side street before turning into the residential area to his left, hearing a thumping bass as he parked on the side of the curb.

A myriad of other cars were strewn across the street and even the lawn in front of the cheap, decaying western home. He locked his car as he strode up to the door that hung open, stepping into the chaos of the alternate world.

"Ichigo!"

Turning to the side he saw Renji striding toward him, bright red hair wrapped tightly in a bun at the back of his head in an attempt to quiet it. He looked good, stonewashed jeans hanging low from under his gray cotton t-shirt. Though there had never been the slightest romantic interest on Ichigo's part, he had always found his friend extremely attractive. He pulled him in for an appropriately platonic bro-hug and shot him a smirk.

"Your place is a zoo as usual," he grinned, giving him a half hearted punch to the shoulder. Renji simply returned the wolfish smile before nodding towards the living room behind him.

"C'mon, gotta introduce ya," he said as he turned and walked towards the couch that was inhabited by two men. One was slender with a bright blond bob and screaming fiercely at the television where he was getting his ass handed to him in Call of Duty. The other was a menacing but calm looking dark haired man with a sixty nine tattoo on his left cheekbone. The blond suddenly roared and chucked the controller to the floor, almost cracking it as he cussed at the other man who showed no emotion to his winning streak except for a small smirk.

"Fuck ya, Shuuhei! How bout I kick yer ass in real life an' see whatcha think about that!" The dark haired man simply scoffed and gave the enraged blonde a sideways glace.

"As if."

"Aright, that's it ya sunnofabitch-"

"Hey," Renji yelled, the two stilling and looking at him for a moment before returning to their standoff, staring each other down like animals. Finally, seeming bored with the shorter, seething man, the dark haired one turned to look at Ichigo.

"Who's that?"

"If y'all would fucking chill for a minute I'd tell you. Shuuhei, Shinji, this is Kurosaki Ichigo." The dark haired one - Shuuhei - stood first, his Adidas sweat pants hanging low on his hips below a white crew neck tee. He was shorter than Ichigo by only a fraction of an inch but the cold searching in his eyes was enough to make the orangette feel small. Finally, he held out a hand and performed an intricate bro shake that Ichigo stumbled through. The blonde simply gave him an absurdly wide grin before stepping in closer.

"Aye Ren, yer friend is pretty cute," he trilled, the redhead punching him in his shoulder hard enough to make him hiss.

"Don' be hittin' on him right in front of my face ya dumbass," he growled, Ichigo giving him a sneer at the protective nature.

"I'm not a woman Ren, I can handle myself."

"Yeah ya fuckin' pineapple, boy can handle hisself," Shinji chimed in as he moved to place an arm around Ichigo's shoulders. He quickly moved away, raising an eyebrow at the blonde man.

"I said that because I'm a grown man, not because I'm interested."

Renji erupted in laughter with his head tilted back, the quiet Shuuhei even joining in with his own deep chuckle. Shinji simply tsked and stalked off to the kitchen for a drink.

"Orange boy already goin' in," a woman's voice husked from behind. Turning to face her, he saw that she was a few inches shorter than him with dark, spiked hair. She wore a red long sleeved shirt and loose black jeans that sagged over a pair of compression shorts.

"What's good, Tats," Renji called as they went through the complicated handshake Shuuhei had attempted with him earlier. "This is my friend Kurosaki Ichigo."

"What's good, Kurosaki?"

"Nice to meet you," he responded a little lamely. The girl simply grinned before nodding to someone across the room and stepping away. Renji was quickly pulled away by someone too and Ichigo was suddenly alone in the room full of people. He had never been nearly as social as his redheaded friend, and groups of strangers certainly was not his forte.  Feeling overwhelmed, he retreated out to the porch where the air was much easier to breathe. He let his eyes roam the streets, watching the throngs of people walking around and loitering in front yards, several different songs clashing against each other. But suddenly, one of them started to get louder and louder until it drowned out the others. Ichigo was looking for the music's origin when he saw a dark gray Camaro rolling up to the curb across the street.

As one of the import's windows rolled down, the throbbing bass shook the ground and a man dressed mostly in black approached from the passenger's side and spoke to the driver.

"What a sight, huh?"

Ichigo whipped his head around to see the blonde man, Shinji, standing to his right. His lecherous smirk was gone as he stared at the gray car ahead.

"Who's that? A friend of yours?"

"Nah, ain't no friend of mine. That man's bad news."

"Why's that," Ichigo asked with a frown, turning his head back to the car as the passenger side window slid up.

"Cause that guy is an animal. Don't care about nothing but survivin' an' he'll do whatever he gotta do to make sure a that. Some people think he's a part of Cero. Ain't nobody who even knows his real name, just what jawns call 'im."

"Cero?"

"Itsa group round these parts that's in some bad shit. Drug runnin', loans, and shit like that. But he's not known fer dealin'. That guy is muscle. He does enforcin', keeps everyone in line. Even does hits when someone fucks up." Ichigo swallowed over the lump in his throat, damning his own curiosity as he continued.

"So what do they call him?"

"Roku."

"Roku," Ichigo repeated, furrowing his brow as the car rolled off. "You mean like six?"

"Yeah. No one knows what he's number six of, an' no one wants ta neither. Anyway," Shinji said with his previous perverted smile," how bout we go back in an' you lemme getchu a drink." Ichigo simply concealed an eye roll and muttered a "no thanks" before brushing past him and heading back inside to find Renji.

His mind was numerically preoccupied the rest of the evening.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey bruh, I got that cash for ya," the man scrambled from his passenger window. He gave him a sideways glance, noticing the slight shaking in his muscles, before turning back to the steering column and nodding at the seat.

"Leave it there, with interest. Ichi wasn't happy to have waited so long."

The man in the window blanched as he pulled out a wad of bills, looking between them and the driver.

"Uh, all-all I got is what I owe ta-"

"Then I'll be back here ina week for the rest. Make sure you got it this time."

The man swallowed hard and dropped the cash on the seat before backing away from the car. Grimmjow rolled up his window, giving the side one last glance, when he saw a spark of bright orange behind the cowering figure he had dealt with. Sure enough, as he looked closer, he saw cinnamon colored eyes gazing at the side of his car.

_ Kurosaki Ichigo. _

Next to the orangette stood another slightly familiar face. The blonde peered at him closely, mouth moving as he presumably told the boy next to him who he was. Hirako Shinji was an interesting character who he heard had a dry sense of humor and a rather quick temper. He had never had dealings with him, but he seemed like a chill dude. 

He had dealt before with Kurosaki, though.

He couldn't help but let his eyes roam over the younger man, sporting a wine colored shirt and dark gray denims that fit him nicely. The furrow in his brow was almost charming-

_ What? _

Shaking his head, Grimmjow put his ride in gear and drove off down the road, feeling a caramel stare follow him as he went.

* * *

**_One week later..._ **

Ichigo panted as he slowed to a stop, muscles burning fiercely. He had taken a few days off from his regular runs, and now it was catching up to him. He stood next to Sankaku Park as he tried to catch his breath, before deciding to walk north towards Renji's house. He followed the familiar maze of side streets, quietly assessing the world around him. He took in the sprawling mass of broken homes as he emerged onto his friends street, noticing that he wasn't home at the evening hour.

_ Probably partying,  _ he thought with a smirk as he started to make his way down the road at a slow jog. Before he could pass by the house, however, he saw a dark gray car drive past him silently. Something about it seemed oddly familiar, but he didn't realize why until it parked in front of the house across the street. 

_ A Camaro. _

Ichigo watched silently as a tall man emerged from the driver's seat, walking swiftly to the front door of the house and walking in without the slightest notice of his presence. The world was silent, except for the rumbling idle of the import, until a scream broke the night. Ichigo's breathing started to increase again as voices grew louder, someone shouting unintelligibly until a single loud crack erupted.

It was like the whole world had stopped. 

The man from the Camaro walked silently from the house and approached his car, turning his head as he opened the door and stare falling directly on Ichigo. He felt like his chest would explode as the man - Roku - appraised him for what seemed like a lifetime, before he shut the door to his car and strode over, reaching the small of his back and retrieving a handgun that he promptly trained on Ichigo's forehead.

"Thought I told ya to stay away from here," he growled as he closed in, the barrel of the gun millimeters away. Ichigo tried to calm his heart but adrenalin swam through his blood and made his body react. His left arm flew out and knocked the weapon away, his right grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt and pulling him forward. It was like trying to move a brick wall, and a fast one at that; Roku wrenched away swiftly and he hopped backward in a fighting stance that undoubtedly meant bad luck for the orangette. He appeared shocked that Ichigo had even attempted to fight him off, and with wide eyes he clicked the safety on the pistol before returning it to his waist. 

It was him who threw the first punch this time, but instinct from his years of training kicked in and he grabbed the man's wrist before wrapping an ankle behind the one opposite him and flinging the blue eyed man back. He thought he had prevailed only to feel the other latch onto him as he fell and pull him below to the ground, grabbing his wrists and slamming them to the ground hard enough to make him gasp.

It was then, as he laid aching under the bigger man, that Ichigo realized he was hard. 

He hoped he would be alone in his discovery only to have his hopes dashed as a knee came to rest between his legs in an attempt to keep him still. The man pressed against his crotch at first just to confine him, but he quickly noticed the younger man's growing erection and his eyes shot back up to meet his brown ones. He felt his face heat up fiercely and the man stared at him, searching for something, before one hand reached to the back of his head and tugged, Ichigo releasing a pitiful cry in confused bliss as his throat was bared. He forced his eyes open through his embarrassment to meet the now almost navy ones above him. The man looked him over thoughtfully before releasing him and standing up, walking swiftly to his car, and peeling off into the night, Ichigo watching from the sidewalk as he went. He exhaled heavily as his control returned to him, running a hand through his hair as he cursed himself.

_ Fuck. _


	5. Chapter 5

_ Fuck. _

Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair, sliding off the beanie he wore as he did so. Adrenalin still ran through his blood and made his vision crystal clear as he flew through the streets, trying to distance himself from the boy he left on the sidewalk.

He had no idea what the fuck had just happened.

One minute he was about to kill the kid for even thinking about laying a hand on him, the next he was seriously considering fucking his brains out the way he whimpered at his hair being pulled.

_ Why did he do that, anyway? _

To say the least he was thoroughly confused. All he knew was that the orange haired man was suddenly a lot more interesting. He felt a twitch beneath his jeans that agreed with his thoughts. He shook his head to try and ignore what had happened and prepare himself for business as he pulled his car up in front of an old illegally occupied apartment building. Hopping out of his car and heading up the stairs, he adjusted his pants before knocking on a door of the third floor. He waited exactly three seconds before opening the door and nodding his head humbly to the man seated at the back window smoking. The man simply gave him a small smile before flicking his filter out the window.

"Okaerinasai," the older man mumbled in a tired voice from his seat. Grimmjow smiled at the sleepy words, stepping around the desk to the window to light up himself.

"Tadaima, ojisan," he responded with a grin. Still facing the window, the dark-haired man smirked at him.

"I'm not that old, ya know."

"Older than most of us," Grimmjow chuckled, the other man rolling his eyes.

"Enough about my age," he said with a sigh, "tell me what happened.”

"He didn't have it, Ichi."

"Grimmjow-"

"Please," he cut off sharply, but respectfully, "I told you not to use my name."

The man sighed and gave him a watchful stare, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned back against the wall. 

"You were my friend before you were part of this job," he said, sounding more his age as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not an easy habit to break."

"I know. But try."

"Fine,  _ Roku. _ Anyway, I told you not to make this messy."

"Yeah, well, fucker copped a mouth with me."

"So you're going to kill everyone who says some shit you don't like?"

"If I need to," Grimmjow shrugged, pulling on his cigarette. His boss simply sighed before closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. Grimmjow felt his chest tighten slightly as he asked his next question.

"Any word from San?"

"No," he replied quietly, "I haven't heard from either of them."

"Those girls were close to you, G. Especially Nel. Don't you have any idea what happened?"

"All I know is Harri went to Ikebukuro to clean up after one of her rages. She said she had to find her and bring her back but didn't know how long it would take."

"Hmm," he sighed again, staring out the window. 

"Did Go get the drop?"

"Course he did. It'll be ready to cut tonight. You gonna stick around?"

"Nah," Grimmjow said, running a hand over the back of his neck and picking up his keys. "I need some sleep."

"Don't we all. Well, get outta here then."

"Night, Starrk."

He felt the man smile at his back as he walked out.

"Oyasumi, Grimm."


	6. Chapter 6

"Bruh."

"What?"

"Bruh."

"Renji, what?

" _ Bruh." _

"You're literally the stupidest being I've ever encountered."

Ichigo watched as his best friend pouted in an incredibly masculine way over the beer in front of him. They sat in a small, quiet bar in Tennouji, and although there were few patrons present the redhead still received a few surprised looks. He huffed before reaching over and poking Ichigo's cheek, bottom lip protruding slightly.

"Mah, Ichi, c'mon. Just tell me whassup, man. You've never said ya wouldn't come chill at my jawn before. So what is it?"

"You're a nosy bastard. Just don't worry about it. What's the big deal with me wanting to hang out in my own ward?"

Renji's eyebrows shot skyward before his eyes roamed around the plush lounge pointedly then returned to the other.

"Forreal? This is yer idea of hanging out? Cause this place feels like a funeral home ta me. Not a damn thing going up in 'ere."

Ichigo groaned in response before letting his head fall heavily onto his arms. His friend had been bugging him for almost an hour, asking why he didn't want to go to his place where the alcohol was cheaper and more abundant. There was absolutely no way for him to give a proper answer.

_ How do you explain to your best friend that you were aroused when some guy tried to kill you two weeks ago? _

He groaned again at the mere thought of the incident. He had been threatened, attacked, restrained and thrown to the ground, and it had resulted in a massively awkward hard on. The idea that he may chance upon his sexy assailant again was enough to make him cringe.

"Ichi, I've been knowin' you fer almost two decades. The fuck is it that ya can't tell me?" 

At those words, Ichigo shifted his head so he could peek to his left, only to see his friend with a much more sincerely hurt expression. He sighed.

"Look," he replied as he lifted his head, "it's not that I don't trust you or something. It's just complicated, Ren. Complicated and embarrassing."

"You fuckin' wit me right now? Dude you've seen my drunk ass strip down butt naked, steal a TV outta a motel room, and bust it in the parking lot." Ichigo couldn't help but laugh as he remembered the occasion, his twenty second birthday to be exact. It had been quite the sight.

"Alright, I get it."

"Then spill already," the redheaded called in exasperation. 

"Fine. So you know how I go to Nishinari-ku to run?"

"Yeah, you finally get fucked up?"

"No - yes - I mean not exactly. I was running the other night and I jogged past your place on the way back. I was going by when this car - a really nice American car - stopped in front of a house across the street. You ever heard of Roku?"

"Ya mean  _ the _ Roku? I don't fuck wit that guy. He's bad fuckin' news. How do you know 'im?"

"I saw the same car when I was at your place the last time. Shinji told me who he was. But anyway, it was him. He went into a house, argued with someone, then...well, then I think he shot him."

"Shit, Ichi I didn't know. I guess tha's why you wanna keep offa my block then."

"Uh no - I mean don't get me wrong," he said as he took a drink, "it bothered me to know some guy died but it's not like I don't know that happens. But when Roku left the house, he saw me. And we kind of...fought." Renji's eyebrows hit the ceiling, the tattoos he had there bunching up as his mouth dropped open.

"Bruh," he breathed, "how aren't ya dead?"

"I uh...I don't really know. He had me pinned but - I mean you know how I like fighting, and -"

"Oh god, you fuckin' got worked up didn' ya? I thought ya had grown outta that weird ass shit."

"Shut up," the orangette groaned again, letting his head fall forward to the bar. His stomach cramped up as he imagined the look on the Roku's face went he felt the untimely proof of his arousal. He heard his friend click his tongue from above and he felt chastised, his face heating further. Bristling at the perceived judgement, Ichigo stood and made his way out of the lounge, dead to Renji’s calls behind him. he trudged up the street, scowling fiercely as he made his way through the throngs of Friday night-goers. He sullenly glanced at his watch as he passed through the edge of downtown.

_ 1:04AM. _

He sighed and maneuvered his way up the street to his apartment building. As he passed by the alley between his building and the one beside, he stopped in his tracks. Its felt like he was being watched.

_ I'm such a paranoid f- _

His chastising thoughts were cut short as a strong arm reached from the alley and pulled him into the dark, a hand clasping over his mouth. His heart rate skyrocketed as he was pushed and held firmly against a wall, feeling breath skitter over his ear.

"Mind telling me what happened the other day," the voice growled in his ear, making his blood run cold and skin warm all at once. The hand slipped from his jaw, allowing him to respond.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he stuttered out more evenly than expected. The grip on his wrists tightened until it hurt, Ichigo suppressing a hiss in his throat.

"Okay, look, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, I didn't mean to-"

Suddenly, he was forced around to meet blinding blue eyes and a fierce snarl. The man stared at him for a few more seconds before releasing his wrists and speaking lowly, voice terrifying and mildly erotic.

"Tell anyone ya saw me go into that house and I'll fuckin' kill ya."

Ichigo's mind went blank as he was caught off guard before he felt a slight blush tint his cheeks.

_ He's talking about the guy he shot, not my fucking boner. How could I forget I saw him kill someone that night?  _

The orangette simply nodded, watching as the man pulled the hood of his sweatshirt firmly around his head before stalking off, heading south towards what he assumed was the Roku's home. Adrenaline fading quickly, he rested his back against the wall of his building before releasing a breath he didn't know he held, head tilted back.

He realized that this was the first time he had gotten a good look at the man's face. He was frighteningly handsome. He had sharp features, high set cheekbones, straight nose, and a strong jaw. Some of his features were soft, though. His skin was perfect, only the very slightest of lines next to his eyes to prove him more than a teenager, and full, pale eyelashes that made Ichigo wonder if he was blonde. He also had perfect teeth, straight and white, with canines that were slightly longer and sharper than average. 

_ All the better to bite with. _

Groaning angrily at the heat in his pelvis, Ichigo shook his head as he trudged into his building, leaning on the wall of the elevator as it ascended. It was most obvious to him now.

_ I'm an idiot. _


	7. Chapter 7

Weeks passed by without any welcome distraction, and life droned on at its tediously standard pace. Class, gym, study, run, sleep, over and over with no blue eyes or adrenalin or threats to his well-being. 

It was irritating.

But what had he expected? Some romance novel tryst filled with passion and intrigue? No, that was simply in the books. It didn't happen in the real world.

_ Still... _

Pulling on his dark brown leather jacket over the long sleeved cream sweater he wore, Ichigo grabbed his keys and locked his apartment behind him. He had no arrangements to go out, but the night air was beautiful and crisp for mid October, enough to inspire him to a walk around the city. He set a slow pace, taking his time to enjoy the sights and sounds around him. He had lived in Tennouji on his own for over two years, but the area was still somewhat alien to him; he rarely put time aside to actually explore and relish the evening. He made his way downtown and slowly drifted to the more dimly lit area where several music clubs sat. One in particular struck his fancy, patrons darkly clothed but brightly accessorized giving him knowing looks as he took the staircase down into the maw. He would assume he looked out of place, but the grotesque figures around him simply grinned like hyenas as he passed by. Walking into the underground, he was captivated by the dim, mostly green and blue lighting that wavered overhead, the perfect accompaniment to Sneaker Pimps'  _ 6 Underground _ as it streamed out of the speakers like a sick lullaby. Smoke curled around the room like a host warmly greeting its oldest friends. He felt a hand run across his shoulders and looked to his right to find a very tall but petite woman with white hair and eyes altered by green cat-eye contacts. She gave him an exaggerated wink before meeting another, smaller woman and kissing her fiercely. Ichigo willed himself to blush in modesty but couldn't. Instead, he simply walked slowly through the waves of writhing people, mind on overdrive.

He was so consumed by the assault on his senses that he didn't feel the hand that grabbed his jacket and pulled him back slowly, only noting what happened when his back hit a wall and he was confronted with  blue. They grazed over him half lidded, Ichigo entranced in the high cheekbones that reflected the teal light around the room. He breathed in slowly, the smoke and musk around him quenching his parched lungs. 

“Doesn't seem like your kind of place,” he growled lowly, Ichigo starting to come out of his daze slightly as he heard the whispered danger in the words. He shrugged, breaking eye contact to make eyes at the floor. But a firm hand grabbed his jaw, tilting his face back up into the blue.

“Speak when I talk to you.”

“I was bored,” he forced out of his closed throat. “I've never been here before.” The taller man simply looked at him then released his face, letting his fingers linger on his jawline in an impression of forbearance. The only sound for some time was the music above, track changing to a remix of Telépopmusik’s  _ Brighton Beach  _ with a quicker beat that thumped in time with their combined pulse. Then with a blink the spell was broken as Roku turned and walked away, discarding a drink Ichigo didn't even notice he had. The man reached the stairs before his body snapped back to action and, against the better judgment of his screaming conscious, spurred him to follow. He burst outside, grabbing the forearm of the man before him. He felt the muscles beneath his fingers and fabric tense harshly as he turned back, eyes narrowed.

“Why,” Ichigo panted, adrenaline making him shake slightly as a he stilled. The man simply stared at him, cocking an eyebrow up in a sign that he didn't follow.

“Why?”

“Why - that night, why didn't you kill me? You knew what I saw, and I even hit you. So...why?” There was nothing but silence between them, Roku turning his head away to look out at the street but not walking away. With a practiced hand he withdrew a cigarette carton and lighter, swiftly breathing in then sighing. Ichigo had always hated the smell of cigarettes until now, the menthol swirling together with the natural spicy smell of his breath. About halfway through the cigarette, he finally spoke.

“I'm still trying to figure that out.”

“Oh. Uh, okay,” Ichigo responded lamely, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why do you keep coming through Nishinari-ku?”

“I'm kind of figuring that out, too. My friend lives there, so I go to his sometimes. But I don't know why I run there.”

“You're gonna get yourself hurt one day,” Roku said quietly, throwing the butt of his cigarette on the pavement. Ichigo shrugged again, but remembering the hand on his face from earlier, replied anyway.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Doesn't that scare you,” the larger man said. He looked up to find Roku facing him again, their chests close as the other looked down at him blankly. 

“Not really,” he said, keeping their eyes locked together and watching the swirling blue electricity behind the others. 

“You're either brave, or fucking stupid,” he said with a step forward.

“Neither,” Ichigo tilted his head back, “I'm just not afraid of something so temporary.”

“Everything is temporary,” his lips whispered next to Ichigo's ear. He shivered, feeling fingers wrap into the hair at the base if his neck.

“Then why would anyone spend their time being fearful of things that only might be?”

His lips were fuller than the orangette assumed they would be. He started out patiently, pressing softly as he got to know the other. But in little time they were fighting, tongue and teeth warring to be dominant, to kiss more thoroughly, to overwhelm the other's senses with nothing more than touch. Roku pulled away first, hand still knotted in Ichigo's hair as he breathed quickly.

“What are you six of,” the orangette slurred out.

“None of your goddamn business,” he growled back, the sound going straight to Ichigo's hips. 

“You know my name,” he tossed back, standing taller than he knew he could, “I want to know yours.”

“No,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss him one more time before pulling away, tugging his beanie down over his ears, and striding down the street. Ichigo leaned back to the wall, trying to catch his breath. He pressed a finger to his lip, seeing a small smear of red where it had split open. Shaking his head, he pulled his coat closer, feeling colder now that his blood was localized in his hips.

_ Fucking hell. _


	8. Chapter 8

_ Fuckin’ hell. _

Grimmjow sat in his car, feeling slightly safer in his own ward surrounded by poverty and disuse.

But not entirely. 

The encounter with Kurosaki had shaken him, to say the least. He made it a habit-no, more like his creed-to avoid being close to people. He didn't date, didn't make friends, didn't go out if it wasn't related to work, none of it. Not until now, at least. 

If anyone asked him, he would say he went into that bar because he needed a drink. It wasn't because he was following the orange haired nuisance through Tennouji and saw him go into it. And he would say he talked to him just to fuck with him, not because he was oddly drawn to him and wanted to hear that ridiculously calm tone he seemed to have at all times. And he kissed him just because…

Why had he done that again?

Well, if someone asked him, he would plead the fifth because he didn't have a goddamn clue. He had at the very least the consciousness to not say anything about himself. It had almost been tempting, the thought of hearing his real name roll off of the other man's sinful tongue enough to make him force himself to leave before he did something he would regret.

He shook his head and opened the door to his car, ready to retire for the night, when his phone rang. 

“Yeah.”

“Konbanwa,” Starrk sighed through the phone, his voice enough to make Grimmjow imagine his sleepy look. He couldn't help but smile.

“Wassup, Ichi,” he asked as he lit a cigarette, leaned against the hood of his car. 

“Mah, you sound in good spirits. You meetcha a lady friend or something?”

“Shut it, Starrk. What did ya call for?”

“I just wanted to see if you'd heard from the girls. I'm starting to worry,” he said with a sigh.

“No, I ain't heard from ‘em. I bet it's fine though. You need to quit fussing like the old man you are.”

“Fuck you, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later.”

“Yeah. And Grimm?”

“What?”

“If I don't hear something soon,” he said with an oddly serious tone, “I'm gonna send you to find them.”

“You've never been this worried about San before,” Grimmjow frowned. “What's different?”

“I'll tell you when you're older. Ja ne.”

Grimmjow stood in the street for a while longer, staring that the foggy film drifting over the remains of Kamagasaki, a lousy feeling seeping into his bones as the night dragged on.

* * *

_ U done bein a girl? We both kno you gon talk to me again. _

Ichigo rolled his eyes at the text from Renji, sighing as he walked out of his lecture hall. He hated evening classes, but of course _Stochastic Processes_ was only available on main campus from 5:30pm to 7:15pm. Probably because there is only one asshole in the entirety of human society willing to teach it. He hefted his bag higher onto his shoulders, then retreated to the parking lot and peeled out towards home. Once he got there, he changed immediately into track pants and a blue long sleeve Underarmor shirt before heading for the building fitness room. After going through his routine of stretching, he took the stairs down to the lobby and walked out into the fall nighttime, starting out at a jog immediately. The reason he went through his evening workout with such haste was simple: Kurosaki Ichigo was on a mission. Ever since the night three weeks ago where he had been pounced on in the club, he had seen neither hide nor hare of Roku. 

And that pissed him the fuck off.

Why it irritated him so much, he didn't know. It wasn't like he had been promised anything, and no one could call the two a couple, or anything that functioned remotely as such. But he still felt slighted. So as he traveled south, feeling the metal of the train track beat under his feet, he kept his eyes peeled for anything.

About a half hour of surveying later, he had made it to Sankaku, and was starting to feel sore. He had paused to stretch again, pulling his arms behind his head slowly, when he saw a car slowing down as it passed. His body tensed, ready to run again, when the window rolled down, a voice calling from within.

“Aye Kurosaki, you look good as last time I saw you. Pants make yer ass look clutch.”

“Shinji,” he responded, letting the adrenalin bleed out of his body. The blonde simply grinned, arm resting outside the window gesturing him toward the car. He walked up to the drivers side, finally taking a moment to actually appreciate the ride. It was a bright orange Lexus IS-C, and from the purr of the engine it was probably a 350, packing a more serious engine for a few extra thousand. The interior was bathed in black leather with a custom sound system gleaming in the center dash. All in all, it wasn't his car, but it was gorgeous.

“You like, huh,” Shinji clucked, noticing his appreciative stare. “Why dontcha hop in the other side an I'll take ya for a ride.”

“I would, but that would end in you wanting me to ride something else, and I'm not particularly interested in that. Plus, I'm running.”

“Damn boy,” he sighed, brow drawn in as he pouted, “can't blame a guy for wanting to get such a nice piece of ass. Anyway, whatchu running through this shithole for? Gonna end up shot.”

“How will I ever survive, dear me,” Ichigo said sarcastically. He was just about to walk away when a thought crossed his mind and he leaned back into the window.

“Hey, since you're here, can I ask something?”

“Just did, but I guess. What's up?”

“We were talking about that Roku guy the other day, and you mentioned the name of some gang he might be in.”

“Yeah, Cero. What of it,” he replied with an uncomfortable frown. 

“You wouldn't happen to know where guys who are supposedly in Cero tend to hang out, would you?”

“Why the fuck would I know something like that? And why would I tell your bougie ass and let you get assassinated? No dice.”

“C’mon, Shin,” Ichigo said with the best lusty grin he could conjure up, pressing his hand on top of the blondes as he leaned further into the car. “I'm just curious. I'll owe you one.”

He watched as Shinji's cheeks were dusted with pink, eyes growing wider. He turned his eyes away and shifted in the seat. 

“Guess you could try near the old ramen shop, Hyakuban. There's a mess of apartment buildings over there where those guys might chill.”

“Thanks,” Ichigo said with a smile as he pulled away, only to be stopped by a surprisingly strong hand.

“I didn't tell ya that. And I honestly hope you weren't listenin’. Ain't no place for you, or anyone.” The man's hazel eyes burned with sincerity that surprised the other. He simply smiled again and pulled away, jogging down the road towards the brothel-turned-restaurant, brain on overdrive. It took him under an hour to reach the right block, slowing his pace once he arrived to look around for…

Something. He wasn't really sure what. Maybe blue eyes, maybe a gunmetal gray Camaro, maybe Bigfoot. He hadn't really planned to get this far. He watched silently as people milled around in front of the apartment buildings and tried to discern which one was Cero headquarters, if they had such a thing. One building looked entirely too run down and broken to be used for anything. Another appeared usable, but the people outside looked like mostly day laborers. There was a third which looked like a possible match, but the people lingering outside seemed so...not like gang members. One man sporting a pink bob seemed to be in a fierce argument with another, incredibly tall man with straight black hair tied behind him. Or rather, the pink haired one was smugly standing there being cursed at. There was a third man, older but very capable looking, who was perched on the stairs rolling a die over and over. Finally, an average sized man with wavy brown hair and a sleepy expression leaned against a wall smoking a cigarette as a young looking girl with bright green hair nagged at him from below. It looked like and odd but harmless gathering.

So much for Shinji's tip.

Feeling defeated, Ichigo jogged past the scene and turned left, starting the trek back towards Tennouji. It was already past 10:00pm according to his watch, and he had several miles to go.

He'd made it six blocks north when he started to feel...odd. It was an itching feeling, something very similar to déjà vu but with a threatening twist. Like when you're in a room with a group of people and you say something you shouldn't, and the very person you don't want to hear it is standing behind you. But he ran through the uncomfortable feeling, ignoring it for another block to see if it would persist. When it continued, he slowed to a stop, catching his breath as he looked around. The world seemed to be motionless around him, the only sound to be heard a buzzing from the only working street lamp around. He was about to start running again when a door creaked to his left. He turned to it, seeing no sign of life besides the gentle motion of an old door as it shifted slightly on its one hinge. 

It wasn't that Ichigo didn't know it was really a terrible idea to go in the building. He knew. He just didn't care so much. 

He pressed his hand gently to the door, slipping inside the foyer of an old office building. A worn map denoting fire exits showed that there was six floors in the structure. He assumed the power was turned off for the whole place, so Ichigo turned to the stairs and started to climb, waiting on each landing for a sign of life. It wasn't until he got to the top that he heard the groan of the floor from somewhere ahead, and set off to find it. He left the stairwell to find a hall with two doors. The one to the left faced the inside and lacked windows. The other on the right took up the whole of the side of the building, and he could see light streaming in from the block glass surrounding the door. 

He opened the door to his right, stepping into the open room. It was apparently under construction when whoever left did so. The floor was uncarpeted concrete, and one wall had several different splotches of color on it like someone had been looking at swatches. But it also showed some signs of life; a mattress and box spring sat in one corner next to several gallon jugs of water, a coffee pot, and a space heater. In another corner was a generator that powered the place. It was Spartan to say the very least, but it was more than many people in Kamagasaki could hope for.

“You were about six seconds away from being shot, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo visibly jumped at the sound of the voice, turning to a dark space behind the door where the words emanated from. 

“Way to scare me shitless,” Ichigo sighed, feeling his body tingle as the chemicals wore off. The other man stayed still, not moving from the shadows. Ichigo cocked his head to the side much like a child would, brow furrowed.

“Is this someone's place? We're you looking for them?”

“Just go,” Roku grumbled again, sounding tired. 

“What? Why? And why have you been avoiding me?”

“To say I was avoiding you is to say I was around you a lot before. I wasn't. Now leave.”

Ichigo stared at the darkness, feeling cut for no apparent reason. Although he was rather blunt about it, the man was right. They had met less than a handful of times, and none of them had been all that meaningful. 

“I guess you're right, but I wasn't the one following you while you jogged either.” There was nothing but silence for a while, until it was broken with a soft curse.

“Close your damn eyes.”

“What?”

“Do it or I'll shoot you like I should have a month ago.”

Ichigo frowned but did as he was told, listening for footsteps that he couldn't hear. Finally, he was unable to resist the temptation and he let his lids snap open. 

He saw Roku pulling a beanie over his head.

“You wanted me to close my eyes so you could put on a hat?”

“Fuck you,” he growled as he turned around, Ichigo trying his best to ignore how great he looked. He wore a pair of slender black sweats on his lower half and a white pullover on top. 

_ No one should look that fine in sweats. _

They stood looking at each other for longer than necessary until the taller spoke.

“What is it exactly that you want from me,” he said as he took a step forward, closing some of the distance between them. 

“I don't know,” Ichigo said quietly, losing the bite in his tone.

“But you're here,” he said, stepping closer again, close enough that the orangette had to tilt his head back to meet the others eyes. 

“Yeah,” he barely breathed, watching as the other man looked him over apathetically. He wanted to move, to do  _ something,  _ but it was like he was trapped in a web of invisible but tangible tension. He watched as the taller man reached out, touching the thin skin over his collarbones. He shivered slightly but never broke their eye contact, watching the slight shift behind the others irises. Finding the strength in his arms again, he reached up and placed a hand on the others arm, watching as blue eyes followed it cautiously. He ran his thumb over the space there gently and watched too, like it wasn't something that either of them could really understand. Then the static around them snapped, Roku bending his head and attacking his mouth with welcome ferocity. Ichigo groaned at the intrusion of his mouth as the others tongue ran along his own. They warred for what seemed like an eternity until the other pulled back, looking at him with the same eyes that he had when he pinned him to the sidewalk. In the surprisingly bold moment, Ichigo reached up and touched the hat pulled snug over the others hair. He felt Roku stiffen, but he didn't pull away. Ichigo gripped the edge of the beanie and pulled it away.

And promptly felt his jaw hit the floor.

It wasn't only the man's eyes that were blue; atop his head sat long, sky blue strands. Some of it was tied back, but the shorter hair in the front spilled forward, untamed by the cap which should have left it a lifeless mess. Running his fingers through the front, he felt how soft it was. He was so awestruck it took him a moment to notice the murderous glint in the others gaze.

“Say one word about it, and I'll beat the shit out of you.”

“Why would I say some shit about it? Even if I did, I have no room to talk,” Ichigo responded with a small laugh, pointing to his own colorful mop. Roku looked at him with a puzzled expression that was dangerously endearing.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled, shaking his head .

“No,” the orangette pressed, “you were going to say something. What was it?”

“I...your hair is different. That's all.”

“Is it? Yeah, I guess orange is probably worse.”

“No,” he said with a frustrated sigh, “it's not. My hair looks like a fucking crayon. Yours...well, it fits you, I guess.”

Ichigo looked up at that, seeing the deep furrow in the others brow. He would probably rethink it later, but in that moment it almost seemed like Roku was saying he liked it. 

“Anyway, you should get back.”

“I guess so.” 

The taller man pulled away and walked over to the window, back facing him as he opened the door. He was just about to shut it and start down the stairs when he heard the other man speak again.

“Kurosaki?”

“Yes?”

“Don't come back here. I'm serious when I say someone's gonna fuck you up one of these times.”

“So that's it,” Ichigo said, feeling defeated more than angry.

“Yeah, it is. Ain't no reason to be looking for me on foot when you gotta ride. It's a nice ass car, minds well use it.”

Ichigo looked at the other, seeing blue peering at him from over a broad shoulder. He simply nodded before shutting the door softly behind him, unable to ignore the pleasant, warm feeling of floating that accompanied his run home.


	9. Chapter 9

“You called?”

“You need to come in. Now.”

“Okay, what's up Ichi?”

“There's no time, just get your ass here.”

“Starrk,” he called through the phone, pulling on his jacket as he ran down the stairs. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Don't know, G. Just get here.” The call was disconnected immediately afterwards, and a heavy feeling of sinking stone settled in the pit of his stomach. Starrk rarely, if ever, spoke with such urgency about anything. And to call him specifically meant whatever the urgency was, it was bad. He ran outside to the back alley and leapt into the front seat, speeding out and down the road the way his car was meant to. He cut the normal ten minute drive down to three, pulling up to the Cero building in record time. He was barely in the door to Starrk's office when he was converged upon. 

“I received this message half an hour ago,” he said with unusual clarity as he placed his phone on speaker and replayed his last voicemail. It was largely just a lot of noise, banging and crashing that sounding like the phone had been swept up in a tsunami. Amidst the ruckus, there was a woman's voice yelling from somewhere distant.

“Ichi! I - Nel got into it - all her stuff - gone when - they put her in the car - fuck, they know, FUCK, ICHI! SEND ROKU! NO, GET THE FUCK OFF…”

Right at the end, before the message cut off, there was a different voice in the background, further away.

_ “HARRI! NO, DON'T TOUCH HER, HARRI~!” _

Then the line went dead.

Grimmjow looked at his long time mentor and friend, searching his eyes for answers.

“I've listened to the message over and over. What I think Harribel was trying to say was that Nelliel got in a fight with someone. When she found where Nel had been staying, her stuff was all over the place. The room was probably raided. Then she saw someone put her into a car and start to drive off. Then they must have spotted her.”

“If someone lays a finger on either of them, I'll hurt them in ways they've never imagined,” he growled in response, feeling the cold in his bones seep away as it was replaced with rage.

“It's not that simple, G.”

“The fuck it isn't. It only takes about 150psi to break a rib, and I bench more than twice that,” he said, starting to turn towards the door. He had taken only half a step when he felt a hand grip him.

“It's Daigo-kai,” Starrk said lowly. He stopped for a moment, processing the words, before shrugging off the hand.

“I don't care if it was the fucking Yamaguchi-gumi. I'm going to get the girls and I'll kill anyone that gets in my way.”

“No, you won't. Pissing off a yakuza clan, even a newer, less organized one, could mean hurting Cero. It could mean you don't come back.”

Starrk placed a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes. Grimmjow snarled back, wanting but unable to deny the truth of those words. The Daigo weren't particularly friendly with anyone, but last year Cero had put itself on their blacklist when Nnoitra - unsurprisingly - had beaten one of their runners to a pulp at a bar in Tokyo. From then on, whenever any of them had to travel east to the capital, they had done it in pairs to avoid trouble. That's not to say there wasn't any, but it was mostly just glaring and verbal confrontations. 

That is, until Yammy went on a drunken rampage there and got into a brawl with three of them in downtown Shinjuku, alone. He won of course, being the monstrous fool he was, but it served to sour their relationship even further. From that moment on, Starrk had banned any Cero from going to Tokyo unless expressly permitted. The decree had worked and avoided further conflict, until Nelliel had went on one of her benders after a rare fight with Harribel. The two women were combined to create the third seat in their organization, and they were so close that it could be frightening. Though it wasn't often they disagreed, when it did happen it usually resulted in the disappearance of one until the other found them, they made up, and returned good as new. 

But this time, Harribel had been too late.

“Promise me you'll be as careful and delicate as the situation calls for,” Starrk continued, his candor making the larger man uncomfortable. Grimmjow simply gave a curt nod, watching as his mentor blinked in agreement then stepped back, looking at his watch. 

“Its at least seven hours to Tokyo. You should be on your way.”

“Don't worry. I'll make it in five.”

“There's something you're forgetting, G.”

“And that is?”

“They'll know you're coming.”

“Yeah, they know all of us. They made a point to after Go fucked one of them up.”

“You're exactly right,” he said purposefully, “and because of that we're going to need to use someone they don't know.”

“Like who,” Grimmjow yelled in exasperation, growing tired of talking and not doing. 

“I don't know, but I'll be leaving that to you. There's no one in Cero who can go to Ikebukuro undetected. So I'm trusting you to choose someone. Do it wisely.”

“You want me to recruit some ignorant goddamn  _ civilian  _ to help me go find San? Are you crazy?”

“Maybe I am,” the older man sighed, “but I also don't see many other viable options. Do you?”

Grimmjow was silent, thinking about the possible outcomes of involving an outsider. Normal people didn't live the way he did.  The person he chose would have to be calm and passive under pressure, cunning, aware, strong, and most of all someone he could trust. Someone who -

He stopped as his thoughts fell on a particular person, someone who, though he didn't know well, his intuition said was honest. His eyes widened slightly.

“Looks like you have an idea of who to take. If you're done standing there, you should get on the road. And don't take your car, it's too damn obvious.”

Grimmjow nodded dumbly as he started making plans in his mind and headed out to his car, his destination the very literal other side of the tracks.


	10. Chapter 10

“Ya done being mad at me, then?”

“No, I'm just getting tired of you texting me like the desperate chick you are,” Ichigo said, trying to sound as apathetic as possible.

“Whatever, as long as we're good.”

“Yeah. So what's been up?”

Renji then proceeded to open the proverbial flood gates and release weeks full of bitchy, pent up drama on him. He prattled on for awhile, Ichigo giving the occasional “yeah” and “uh-huh” to keep him going. He was transitioning into some story about a girl on his block who had very openly fawned over him to his displeasure when the buzzer sounded from the lobby, indicating someone was there to see him. Ichigo frowned.

“Ren, did your dumb ass just drive to Tennouji to hang out unannounced?”

“Nah, I'm at mine laying on the couch watching Cops. Fuck you think that for?”

“Someone called my place from the buzzer downstairs. They probably just pressed the wrong door. What were you -”

Just as he was about to ask him to continue his tale, the buzzer sounded again, ringing on and off as someone pressed the button furiously.

“Is that the buzzer again,” Renji asked from the other side of the call.

“Apparently. Hold on a minute, I'm gonna tell them to fuck off.”

He headed to the foyer of the apartment, the noise growing louder and painfully irritating the closer he got. He finally smashed a finger to the talk button on his receiver, stopping the sound as he seethed.

“What the fuck do you want and why are you ringing for my place?”

“Open the goddamn door,” a gruff voice called back impatiently. It sounded kind of familiar, but wasn't immediately placed. Figuring it was some other tenant who forgot their keys, he stabbed at the button to open the outside door, rolling his eyes heavily as he walked back towards the kitchen for a drink.

“You get them to stop,” Renji asked as he put his phone back to his ear.

“Yeah, some guy who forgot his keys probably. Anyway, so this girl?”

“Yeah, I mean she a ten and everything but damn bitch be clingy as hell! She was just texting me -”

_ BANG BANG BANG. _

Ichigo's head whipped to his front door, the sound making him jump and drop the glass he had been holding into the sink in the process. He watched it crack into several pieces, cursing loudly.

“The fucks going on bruh?”

“Someone's at my door now,” Ichigo yelled into the receiver, stomping towards the noise with unmatched fury. “I'm gonna fuck this guy up I swear to god, hold up.”

He reached out to the knob and swung open the door as harshly as he could.

Then stopped.

“You gonna just stand there, or are you gonna let me in Kurosaki?”

He blinked a few times, trying to gather himself as he viewed the visitor that was most certainly there to see  _ him _ . Eyes still wide, he put his phone up to his ear.

“Uh, Ren?”

“You get that fucker good?”

“Not exactly. I'll call you back.”

“What? Wait, what happened? Ichi?”

He ended the call then dumbly stepped back from the door, watching as Roku stepped into his home, lithely moving towards the living room like he was an old friend. The man peered around the room, a frown set deeply on his face. Finally, he turned around, raising an eyebrow.

“How the hell do you afford a place like this,” he asked skeptically.

“Uh, my dad pays for it since I'm in school. My turn, why are you standing in my living room?”

“Seemed more sensible than standing outside,” he said, shooting the other a smug grin. It was annoyingly evasive, but Ichigo couldn't help but let his own mouth twitch in a smile too. He hadn't ever heard the man crack a joke, and it was a pleasant change. Not to mention his grin alone was enough to flush the orangette's face. He sighed.

“Could you be a bit more specific? I get the feeling something is wrong.”

“Why do you say that,” the taller man asked as he walked back towards him, serious demeanor back in place.

“I don't know, it's just a feeling, really. Is something bothering you?”

Roku stopped only a few inches away, close enough that Ichigo had to tilt his head back slightly to meet the man's eyes. He didn't know why, and certainly had no proof, but it just felt like he was preoccupied. The way the blue in his eyes swirled around, or maybe the uncomfortable tone to his voice, whatever it was it seemed like he was worried. They stared at each other for a few moments more before the larger man shook his head slightly and turned around, moving towards his furniture and falling heavily into the sofa. Without turning to meet the other's eyes, he raised a hand above him and motioned for Ichigo to follow. The orangette strode to the living room and settled into an armchair across from his glass coffee table, tucking his legs underneath him out of habit. 

“I need,” the man started, running a hand over his face, “a bit of a favor.”

“A favor? From me, you mean?”

“No, not you. I figured I would just come all the way to Tennouji to tell you about a favor I need from someone else,” he deadpanned, leaning forward as he spoke.

“You can’t blame me for asking, this is kind of an unusual situation. But anyway, me. So what is it you need?”

“Well, you and I are going to go on a little road trip.”

“A road trip?”

“Yeah, for the most part.”

“The most part?”

“Goddamn boy are you secretly a parrot or something,” the other asked loudly, eyes narrowing.

“Well if a road trip is the most part, what's the other part?”

“It's...complicated. I'll explain on the way. For now, go pack for a few days trip so we can get going. Oh, and we gotta take your car.”

“Sorry but I'm going to have to ask you to pump the breaks because you lost me.”

“I will repeat myself to you one last time. We're driving to Tokyo in your car, we'll be gone for a few days, and you're going to help me with some shit. We leave in,” he paused to look at the watch on his wrist, “thirty minutes. Hop to.”

Ichigo simply sat and stared for a time, trying to process what he was being told. He started at confused, and was slowly working his way up to fucking pissed. This man, who he could hardly consider even a companion, walks into his house and says they are spontaneously driving to a city seven hours away for a reason he wouldn't divulge in his luxury car. Sitting up straighter, he looked the blue haired man in the eyes.

“Fuck you,” he spat evenly.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I said fuck you. I'm not going anywhere.”

The other looked at him like he had sprouted a pink spotted mushroom atop his head before narrowing his eyes and standing. Very slowly he crept over to the other, before finally leaning over the armchair and sticking his face close enough that the orangette could feel his breath. An eerie grin spread across his face, showcasing his sharper than average canines as he spoke quietly.

“I dare you to say that to me again.”


	11. Chapter 11

“I fucking dare you, Kurosaki.”

Grimmjow thought his brain was going to explode. He hadn't had someone speak to him this way in years, and had almost forgotten how angry it made him. Anyone else would have been dead by now.

He didn't know why Kurosaki was still breathing.

He figured at this point the kid would get the picture and go along with the ride. But to his utter shock, something entirely different happened. Instead, he watched as the shorter man stood up from the chair he was curled in, meeting his eyes so fiercely that Grimmjow actually pulled back and straightened up. He stood to his full height, keeping their close proximity and clenching his fists like he wasn't the shorter one, and sneered at him.

Yes, that little carrot top fucker  _ sneered _ at him.

“Challenge accepted, motherfucker. I said fuck you and take your own ass to Tokyo. Don't like that, get the hell out of my apartment.”

At this point, something in him snapped. Like a robot following its programmed command, he reached behind him swiftly, pulling out the Sig Sauer P226 from his waistband and sticking against the skin of his forehead like a stamp.

And the little bastard didn't so much as flinch. Instead, he did the unthinkable and reached out, grabbing the other by his collar and dragging him down with surprising strength so they were face to face.

“If you're going to threaten me with that, then use it. Otherwise, put it away and put your hands up, if you think you can get the best of me,” he snarled in his face, Grimmjow surprised by the ferocity and sincerity in his words. Then, he did something incredibly unnatural.

Grimmjow stepped back.

Yanking himself away from the others grip, he moved away before lifting up his handgun. Before the others eyes, he released the clip into his hand then pulled back the slide to remove the chambered round, setting all three things onto the coffee table behind him. He squared up.

He was on him instantly. 

He stepped forward gracefully and swung a punch forward towards the others face, Grimmjow feeling his knuckles barely graze his nose as he moved back. But the orangette wasn't done, centering himself with perfect balance and instantly cracking his foot across Grimmjow's hip. The impact ached immediately, but he ignored it and struck back, grabbing Kurosaki’s wrist and trying to yank him off balance only for him to grab his arm in return and bring his leg up in a high arc, bashing it down on his forearm. He let go before it could do any real damage but he still felt it.

He had underestimated the man before him, and dangerously so.

Pulling his arms up in a fighting stance, he watched the other tentatively, waiting for him to strike again. He came again quickly, fearless in his motions as he tried to lay another right hook to Grimmjow's nose. This time though, he was ready. He pulled back before bringing his heel down onto Kurosaki's shin. He watched as he turned to requite the blow but Grimmjow lashed out again, moving in close and kicking him in the waist as he was off balance. The other coughed and stumbled, but not before grabbing the larger man and trying to bring him down too. They ended up crashing down onto the couch hard enough to flip it, Grimmjow forcing the other below him onto the back of the sofa as it played on the floor. He wrapped a hand around the others exposed throat, watching the man thrash wildly against his weight and throw his hips to the side to get him off. But Grimmjow placed a knee in between the other's legs, bringing weight down onto his pelvis to hold his lower half still.

And there  _ it  _ was again.

Just like the night the smaller man had heard him kill the stupid runner that stole from Cero, he felt that he was erect, heat pressing into his leg through several layers of clothing. He stared at the other who still glared at him like a feral dog, teeth bared in defiance. The blue haired man released the throat below him and held down his wrists instead, feeling some of the heat drain from his mind and move towards his groin.

“You're fucking hard from this shit,” he both asked and stated, watching as he breathed heavily, both angry and aroused. He simply averted his eyes for a minute before turning back and pulling his shoulders up as much as he could, so their noses almost touched.

“Yeah, what are you gonna fucking do about it,” the other seethed at a whisper.

That was an incredibly good question, and he wasn't sure about his answer. At least, he wasn't sure until the smaller man pushed against his body weight yet again and his thigh grazed his half-hard member. After that the decision wasn't all that difficult. He crashed his lips down onto Kurosaki's, feeling the smaller man's lip bust under his teeth. He was blindly unaware though, and continued to kiss back viscously. After a few moments of battle, the man showed a surprising amount of strength as he pushed Grimmjow off of him and to the floor, straddling his waist instantly. The blue haired man wasn't going to have any of that, so he pushed him away fiercely before standing, grabbing the other by the shoulder, and throwing him bodily into the wall.

At the impact, Kurosaki made a noise somewhere between groaning and growling, their mouths enveloping each others as they kissed, nipped, and bit like animals. Before he knew it, slender fingers were forcing off his jacket and tearing at his shirt, and he found himself doing the same, pulling his gray T-shirt off before sliding down the soft sweatpants he wore. Once they were both bare, or mostly so, the orangette pulled him to the wood floor, half with his teeth and half with some magnetic force that trapped him in the moment. He lifted his leg and swung it over the larger man's shoulder himself, uninterested in how badly the next part was going to hurt. 

Grimmjow didn't need to be told with words.

He forced himself inside the other, hearing a soft crackling sound come from his throat as his back arched and hips flexed at the intrusion. He stilled for a few moments, resting his forehead on the others shoulder as he adjusted to the tight, writhing heat. In the back of his mind he knew it was a terrible decision, but he couldn't help lifting his head and glancing into the caramel colored eyes below.

He saw gold in them, flashing brightly as he panted and tried to relax, before they seemed to turn a slightly darker shade, meeting his fully. He sighed deeply, almost like some immense weight had left him. Then he tilted his head to the side and kissed him. To say this one was different would be a gross understatement; it was almost like kissing a different person. He pressed their mouths together slowly, almost tentative, before pulling away and sighing again. 

So Grimmjow started to move. 

He actually started slowly at first, a much gentler pace than their foreplay would have suggested, working the others muscles open easily until he shook below. It had been a long time since he had fucked someone so good that, to his never-to-be-acknowledged embarrassment, he released the strain on his arms by resting on the orangette's side as he got close to climax. They both were close. Achingly close. With one more thrust of his hips, he felt Kurosaki unravel, mouth open and eyes clenched shut in a silent scream. He too let go, feeling himself spill into the other and his teeth ending up in the delicate skin of the smaller man's neck hard enough to leave a bruise. They laid there on the floor, breathing heavily for a while in the quiet.

He would say it was uncomfortable, if anyone ever asked.

Finally, Kurosaki turned to him with bleary eyes, face slightly flushed.

“You're gonna have to make it an hour.”

“What?”

“We both need to shower, there's no way we can leave in thirty minutes. Plus I pack like a woman. So an hour, then we'll head to Tokyo, okay?”

Grimmjow stared at him wide eyed, unsure exactly what was happening as he moved out from under him and grabbed his strewn clothes from the door. He walked towards the back hall of the apartment, turning his head slightly to call over his shoulder.

“The guest bath is first door on the left. Towels are on the rack.”

Then he sauntered off and went to the right, most likely into the master bedroom. Grimmjow heard water running a few minutes later. 

Forefront in his tempestuous thoughts, it all seemed rather...surreal.


	12. Chapter 12

An hour later, Ichigo was sitting in the driver’s seat of his Infiniti, a generic Spotify playlist streaming through the Bluetooth system as he sped east along the coast. His knee wanted to bob against the wheel well in the uncomfortably quiet, and his passenger couldn’t stop cracking his knuckles. It was painfully obvious that both of them were lost for words.

Not that they’d ever talked much anyway.

He took a selfish, sparing glance at the man next to him. His brow was drawn in as it usually was, but instead of misplaced aggression and a generally bad temper the man actually looked confused. He wasn't the only one, for that matter. When he argued with the Roku, it had definitely not been with the intention to have sex with him. He was legitimately pissed the fuck off; the commanding, sure manner the guy had was in some ways attractive but not when it was applied to telling Ichigo what to do. 

_ No one  _ told Kurosaki Ichigo what to do except Kurosaki-fucking-Ichigo.

_ Then again… _

Taking another quick look, he felt coldness slither down his spine. He would admit he may have taken it a little...far. Adrenalin was powerful drug, and under it’s maddening influence he could occasionally get a little big for his bones. He wasn’t a pussy by any stretch of the imagination; many a towering, too-drunk, too-forward asshole had been felled by his hands and feet.  But Grimmjow wasn’t just a jock in a bar who slapped a girl’s ass with him watching. In other words, if it had came to hands, he wasn’t sure who would have came out on top, and what state that person would be in besides. 

_ And that’s not even the worst of it,  _ Ichigo chided himself, bottom lip abused by his anxious teeth. Grimmjow hadn’t come to their spat with just  _ hands; _ nay, he came with something more. With firepower. He couldn’t help but think he might had pushed a little too hard this time. Things could have ended much differently, after all. 

“Christ, kid, say something.”

“Huh,” Ichigo followed less-than-gracefully, pulled from his thoughts by the words of the passenger, currently glaring his way.

“Fucking say something,” he repeated with a growl, “Speak, talk, engage,  _ something.” _

“Uh, okay,” ichigo replied before growing deathly silent.

“You not speak the language or something, gaki?”

“I’m thinking! Jesus. I mean, I dunno...you like Drake?”

The car resumed the quietness and Ichigo waited for an answer. After a few moments he glanced to his left only to find Roku glaring at him heavily.

“What? I’m talking!”

“I mean yeah, I guess so it’s just...pretty lame.”

“Hey, Drake is not lame,” Ichigo countered with a frown that lacked heat. The blue-haired man just huffed and lifted his arms over his head, Ichigo swallowing as he watched shirt fabric pull taut around his biceps. He turned his head back to the road and swallowed thickly. There were enough distracted drivers on the road. 

“What were you listening to when we met?”

Ichigo wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

“ _ Met? _ When we  _ met? _ ”

“Just answer me. What kind of shit was that?”

“Its called trip-hop by most people. It’s like a darker electronica. Dubstep mixed with vampires, if that makes sense.”

“It don’t,” he mumbled, but Ichigo’s curiosity was already peaked.

“Why are you asking? You like it?”

“I’m finished with the talking now.” Roku said with an edge in his voice that said he should be left alone. Ichigo clamped his jaw shut and turned his attention fully back to the road.

_ It’s going to be a long drive. _

The thought made Ichigo huff before he realized that Roku had never identified the route he wanted to take to Tokyo or whether it mattered which one they took at all. He glanced to the side again.

“So which way do you want to take to the city?”

“Hadn’t thought about it,” the other murmured quietly. Ichigo allowed a little bit of silence for a response, before seeing that there wasn’t going to be one and going on tentatively.

“Well, we can either go north through Kyoto to Nagano and then southeast, or we can follow the coastline the whole way there. North has fewer tolls, but it’ll take a little longer.”

“We can’t go through Nagano,” his companion stated sternly, making the other jump a little. He felt curiosity burning behind his eyes as a peered to the left, but decided that he didn’t need any weapons being pulled in a confined space and sighed.

“Coast it is then.”

They sat quietly from there on out. Ichigo chewed his bottom lip as he took an exit south, the sign signaling the way to Yokkaichi. He was consumed in his own mind with thoughts what could possibly be the reason for Roku not wanting to go through Nagoya when a hand at the back of his neck almost sent him careening into another lane.

“Jesus kid, calm down. Not gonna kill my ride,” the other chuckled.

Ichigo didn’t respond, but tried to take the advice and relax. The hand became fingers that moved up slightly to the hair and the nape of his neck and gently tugged, like he was examining the texture between them. Against his wishes he felt his cheeks heating up and the innocent contact.

“This your real hair color,” the passenger asked.

“Y-yeah, guess so.”

“Guess so?”

“I mean it is. It’s my mom’s color.”

“Makes sense.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s kinda girly.” 

Ichigo turned to scowl at the other only to find him grinning at him from the side, fingers still winding between strands. He couldn’t help but smile himself.

_ It’s nice to see him something other than angry. _

“So where do your folks live?”

“Dad’s in Karakura,” Ichigo mused, “it’s a tiny town just west of Nagoya; my hometown, actually. My sisters are both at university; one at Keio in Minato-ku, the other is overseas in the States for athletics.”

“Holy shit, you guys are a bunch of nerds.” Ichigo just glowered at him before turning back to the road.

“I suppose we are,” he sighed.

“You said your dad’s in Karakura, what about your moms,” the other man asked quietly, still stocking the fine hair between his fingers. Ichigo looked at him before saying anything. He was peering at the side of his face, expressionless, but even so the orangette got the impression that he wasn’t trying to pry or gather information for a purpose; he mostly seemed curious.

“My mom died,” he said evenly, without emotion.

_ Without weakness. _

“Shit,” the other rumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay; it was a long time ago. I was still in primary school then.”

“Hmph.”

The car went silent again and Ichigo heard his leather seats groan a bit as Roku shifted his weight back toward the window and away from him. Even so, he still felt the dip in his seat’s shoulder as a surprisingly gentle hand stayed itself, working his hair absentmindedly through thoughtful fingers.

* * *

 

_ Why am I still touching him, _ Grimmjow asked himself internally as he stared out the window. They had been like this for awhile; a glance at the dash showed the time as 2:30am. That meant they’d been on the road for almost two hours. Their conversation had been over at least half that time, yet his hand was still kneading the fluffy orange hair behind Ichigo’s ear. If anyone asked him, he would deny that it was comforting. Tilting his head slowly to the right, he looked at his driver. Although the kid was putting on a brave front, he could see that he was tired; rings under his eyes, deep breaths, and a slight sag to his normally perfect posture betrayed his façade.

“Oi,” he said softly, trying to avoid startling the kid anymore than he already had in the past few hours. He glanced at him quickly before looking back to the road.

“Yeah?”

“Pull over at the next exit. Need to sleep.”

“That’s fine, go ahead and sleep. I’ll keep going.”

Grimmjow peered at him harder, eyes growing narrow. He smiled a little and wasn’t sure why.

He didn’t like it.

“Don’t gotta keep frontin’ about it, I can tell yer tired.”

“Really, I’m fine,” the other continues, tossing a brief and forced smile his way, “I’m a university student, remember? I’m used to long nights and-”

“Stop arguing, gaki,” he growled, “you ain’t in any condition to drive. Either we find a place to crash or you let me drive for awhile.”

“No one drives her but me,” he shot back quickly. Grimmjow grinned with understanding; that feeling was mutual. He lifted his arms behind his head.

“Then you minds well pull off at Yokkaichi. It’s not far ahead.”

The orange head nodded and started merging left for the exit a few kilometers ahead. A roadside sign showed several hotels in the area, and a quick internet search by the passenger showed the cheapest was a few minutes walk from the train station, a modest lodging called Reiah Hotel. They pulled into a tiny lot from the alley and Ichigo started rooting around, prepared to get out of the car. Grimmjow frowned and placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back in the seat.

“Stay here,” he said quietly.

“How come,” the other asked innocently. He sucked his teeth, trying to stay patient.

“Because I said so. Just relax and I’ll get you when we have a room.”

Ichigo was quiet, but leaned his head against the seat and closed his eyes, giving a little huff. Grimmjow pulled the door handle and had one foot out the door when a soft touch to his back made him turn around. Ichigo was still leaning back against the headrest, but his eyes were open now, searching his face while his lips parted with something he wanted to say.

“What is it?”

“I…” he started before training off, a distant look coming over him as his attention was drawn over his shoulder.

“Earth to strawberry,” Grimmjow grumbled, eyebrows furrowing as he watched Ichigo’s face scrunch up just the same. He felt his heart stop hard when the orangette finally spoke.

“Roku, do you trust me?”

“Trust you,” Grimmjow repeated, watching as the other pulled his gaze back his face, jaw set with resolve. He didn’t have an answer to that question.

“And what if I do,” he threw back cryptically.

“If you do,” Ichigo said evenly, “then you will get out of the car, go back to my trunk, and take out the blanket that is sitting on the left hand side. Then get back in the car. Do it quickly, but don’t look around, okay?”

Grimmjow looked hard at the driver, who had put the car in reverse before settling back into his seat, ready to go. He felt a thick pit of dread welling up behind his ribs, and he heard Ichigo’s words replay in his mind.

_ “Roku, do you trust me?” _

He still didn’t have an answer as he swung out of the passenger door, leaving it open and walking briskly to the trunk that was already popped open. He saw the blanket instantly, and old crocheted thing that he tucked under his arm and carried back to the front. He closed the door and felt the car lurch backward at the same time, although not at any alarming speed.

“Put the blanket over yourself, like you’re trying to sleep. And put up your hood. Quickly,” Ichigo reprimanded him as he rolled past the motel’s office and turned on his left signal. Grimmjow complied, pulling the hood of his heather gray sweatshirt up until the rim sat against the bridge of his nose and unfolding the worn afghan.

“Now lean back and turn your head towards me, like you’re trying to sleep.”

He let his head drop so it faced away from the window and toward Ichigo, who was now turning away from Reiah. Grimmjow waited stiffly for a few more turns before he felt the even glide of the highway again under the sedan’s tires. Ichigo stared into the rearview mirror for a while before glancing at him from the side, shoulders sagging as he deflated with one large sigh.

“Okay, I think the coast is clear now,” he said with a tired smile. Grimmjow sat up and looked hard at him, waiting. When nothing was proffered, he had to control himself from lashing out.

“You ready to tell me what the hell the meaning a’ all that was?”

“What? Oh, sorry,” Ichigo replied with bleary eyes, rubbing one as he turned back to the road. “To be honest with you, I don’t know what it was. All I know is, I saw two men standing outside the door to the office, and when you opened the door they turned to look at the car. Then one of them pointed and they started talking while gesturing at us. Just didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“You’re lying,” the larger man stated with wide eyes, not having to look at Ichigo to know he sure as hell was  _ not _ . He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Did you notice anything else? Anything that stuck out to you?”

“I don’t think so,” he said slowly, “it was more of a bad feeling than a rational thought.”

“Can you at least tell me what they looked like?”

“I can try. They were both average height, one was really slender and the other was well-built. The skinny guy was sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette. He had dark green hair and dark eyes. The bigger guy was wearing a tank top and jeans, his head was shaved too close for me to see the color, and he wore shades. The skinny guy noticed you first. Oh,” Ichigo punctuated with a fierce yawn, “and they both had the same tattoo.”

“How the hell do you – you know what, never mind. What’s the tattoo?”

“It was a dial that looked like a clock. It pointed to where the “three” mark would be, and there was a shadow around part of it.”

Grimmjow sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. There wasn’t time for this. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. The faces are a little blurry but the tattoos I remember,” he said with another yawn. “Is this bad news or was I just overreacting?”

“Bad news,” the blue haired male growled.

Back in the motel parking lot, the thin man smiled against the butt of his cigarette.

_ Bad news, indeed. _


End file.
